


We Need to Talk About Last Night

by ericaismeg



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I think?), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Everyone Is Alive, Hurt Stiles, Jealous Derek, M/M, Pack in College, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, The Pack appears briefly, post-show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ericaismeg/pseuds/ericaismeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wants to talk about last night, Derek wants to forget it because he doesn't know what it means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Need to Talk About Last Night

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“We need to talk about last night.”

Derek Hale lifts his head. He'd been counting the money in his till, and the statement makes him lose track. His eyes meet the eyes of one annoying kid. He shifts on his feet, more out of anticipation than nerves. Derek shakes his head. “No.”

He looks back down, starting to count the goddamn dimes all over again.

“Derek, we _need_ to talk about it.”

“Stiles, go away. I'm busy.”

“You're closing in two minutes. You don't have any customers. _We need to talk_.”

“Stiles, I said—oh shut up, and let me finish this.” Derek doesn't raise his head. He just starts counting all over again. The kid is going to be the death of him, Derek knows it. Last night...well, Derek doesn't want to think about what an ass he was last night. That's that. So he'll let Stiles pretend he's willing to talk so he can finish emptying his till, and then he's kicking him out of the coffee shop.

Derek finishes the nickles, and then silently walks to the back with the back with his cash. He unlocks his safe, and carefully sets it inside. When he locks it up, he sighs. _Fuck_. He doesn't want to talk to Stiles. Not today, not ever again, not after last night.

When he turns, he jumps. “ _Fuck_.”

Where the hell had his werewolf senses been to not realize that Stiles had jumped the counter—something he does more often than Derek likes—and followed him? Stiles' eyes are filled with determination, and the expression he wears matches.

He puts his hands on Derek's shoulders, and pushes him. Derek is so caught off guard, that he just stumbles until his back hits the wall. He lets out a low growl.

Without a single word, Derek conveys how _little_ he wants Stiles to be touching him right now.

“Dude, we're going to fucking talk. Even if I have to put a line of mountain ash around your ass,” Stiles warns. His voice holds a tone that Derek's not used to hearing, and Derek frowns. He gets that Stiles is mad at him, because Derek's mad at himself. But the hint of worry that Derek picks up in Stiles' voice makes Derek nervous. Why would Stiles be worried? Does he think that Derek might hurt him? He wants to reassure Stiles that he would _never_ , but the words don't come out.

Derek just studies Stiles' face. God, they hadn't been this close physically in a long time. He hadn't realized he'd missed Stiles being so close, touching him—even if it was non-sexually—and breathing in his scent in such concentration. Derek resists closing his eyes to bask in the scent for the moment, and just tries to memorize how Stiles looks right now.

“What the _fuck_ was last night?” Stiles demands.

He has to admit, the kid has no fear when it comes to hanging out with the supernatural despite being human. Derek admires that Stiles can treat his friends—not that Derek would really call him and Stiles friends, because he's pretty sure that Stiles doesn't see them that way—as equals even though they're werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, kanimas, and hunters. Stiles simply doesn't care. He trusts the pack to not hurt him. He also trusts the pack to be there for him, always. Derek wouldn't be surprised if Stiles had run to most of the pack after last night to demand to know what the fuck is going on with Derek. God, Derek wishes _he_ knew what was going on.

“Let go of me,” Derek growls. It wasn't supposed to come out like a threat, but it did anyway. Despite having supernatural strength to move away from Stiles, Derek stays where he's pinned. He made a promise to himself, years ago, and he refuses to ever use his wolf against Stiles. He had, a couple times, but not anymore.

Stiles relents after his frown deepens. He drops his hands, one of them casually grazing part of Derek's chest. _Oh god no,_ Derek thinks. His chest tightens, his throat thickens, and he can feel most of his muscles go on alert. He will _not_ think about this again, not while Stiles is _right there_ , as temptation. Derek shifts on his feet, only slightly, but can't seem to bring himself to move away from the wall.

“Alright, I let go of you. Now are we going to talk?” Stiles demands. “Because after last night, I want answers.”

“We can talk.” Derek hates Stiles. He doesn't want to talk about this. He _knows_ he screwed up last night. He's fully aware. The guilt had been vibrating in his body ever since he woke up and remembered.

Stiles shakes his head. “Oh my god, Derek, what am I supposed to do? You look like you want to murder me, or kill yourself, because _talking_ is just too much. I'm going to go lock the front fucking door. Seriously, I have no idea what this pack would do without me. Be robbed, I suppose.”

Then Stiles is out of Derek's personal space. Suddenly, breathing gets a little easier. But Derek wants to be in Stiles' personal space again. He wants to be up close and _personal_ . This is ridiculous. He follows, feeling dumb, Stiles out to the front again. Stiles is locking the front door. When he turns, Derek feels as though someone just punched him in the gut. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Why does Stiles have to look so damn good in dim-lighting? In any lighting, really.

“Okay, I know you turned off the coffee maker, but I need some.” Stiles sits down at the counter, watching him. Derek doesn't acknowledge the demand verbally, but walks over to start his coffee maker back up. He wonders if Stiles realizes just how _insane_ this is. The fact that they had gotten to a place where it's comfortable for them to get coffee together. Not that they're getting coffee together, or that this is really comfortable. The truth is that this isn't the first time that Stiles had come by his coffee shop just after it closed and they'd shared a coffee though.

“Great, thanks.”

Derek turns back to Stiles. He pulls his stool up, and sits down uncomfortably across from him. “What do you want to talk about, exactly?”

“How about _everything_ ?” Stiles asks, sounding as though it should be obvious. It probably is, Derek admits. “Let's start with the fact that _you_ suggested to Scott that we have Pack Nights months ago Let's talk about the fact that it was _you_ who suggested we deserved to go get drunk and hit up a bar? Oh, oh, oh, and then we can talk about how you _punched_ my fuck toy to a bloody _pulp_.”

Derek hangs his head, staring at his hands on the counter. Yeah, okay, so that hadn't been his best moment. Not that Derek has many best moments. He glances back at Stiles, and realizes that he looks more worried than mad. Derek focuses and _knows_ that Stiles is worried and nervous right now. _Goddammit_ , Derek doesn't want to make him either.

“I thought it would be good...after everything we've been though in the past few years, if we bonded. Like a pack bonds. My family...we used to have Pack Nights.”

Stiles seems to visibly deflate, even if only a little. His face softens. “Derek, I know. It was such a great idea, especially after most of moved away for college. It's nice to come back once a month to be with the pack. I don't have any supernatural bonding instincts, but I _do_ miss you guys when I'm at school.”

“You moved the farthest away.” It's not said as an accusation, just a stated, sad fact.

“I know, Derek. But I come back every other weekend.” Stiles watches him carefully, so Derek turns to make their coffees. He's not sure how to do the emotional stuff anymore. That would haven been part of the reason he had suggested Pack Night. The truth is that Derek had missed his family, had missed how easy it was to be with them, and how he could hug and touch them. He never really knew where he stood in Scott's pack. Derek never wants to make anyone uncomfortable by touching them. Then it'd occurred to him that Stiles could be touchy-feely. Sometimes, if Derek's hand lingers on Stiles' arm while they talk, he feels as though he could be more open with the pack. It's the closest thing he has to his family right now. He wouldn't tell anyone that though.

“You looked stressed, when you came home. I thought that maybe a night out would help you blow off some steam,” Derek tells him quietly. He sets the two mugs down on the counter in between them. He doesn't look at Stiles, because he's afraid that Stiles will laugh at him. Not that Stiles laughs at Derek's expense much anymore. Derek supposes that Stiles is probably one of the few people who truly understand him, or at least _tries_  to understand him. Derek glances up briefly, long enough to see Stiles' brain working to figure him out. He also looks a little surprise. Derek's eyes go back to his coffee.

“I _was_ stressed, thank you for noticing. Since Scott's been all over Kira, and the supernatural world has been a little quiet, he hasn't been...we haven't been talking much.” Stiles shrugs, as though it's no big deal. Derek meets his eyes, trying to communicate that he understands, that he _gets_ it.

Cora had been too busy with school to talk—Cora in school had been Stiles' suggestion, and she'd been so thrilled that Derek wouldn't do anything to deny her this chance. She would chatter on for twenty minutes about how school is going, then apologize abruptly before having to hang up for one reason or another. Derek had been feeling a little neglected too, so he hopes that Stiles knows that.

“I know,” Derek murmurs. It's not much, but he doesn't know how to voice anything else. He quietly adds, after a moment of thinking about it, “I wanted you to have fun, Stiles...not ruin your night.”

Stiles doesn't speak right away. Derek simply takes a sip of his coffee. He has to admit, it's good coffee. His parents had talked about opening up the _Hale Coffee_ shop the year before...well, before the fire. Derek had decided that when the majority of the pack had gone away to college—everyone was only a twenty minute drive out of town, but Stiles had gone five hours away for reasons that Derek can assume to understand—he would make his parents' dream come true.

It's also turned out to be great for Erica, who had demanded she hire him because she wanted to go to college too and wouldn't let Derek use his insurance from the fire and his family's deaths to pay for it. Isaac helped out, but he hadn't gone to college. Instead, he's working on business plan for running a safe house—so kids like him could have somewhere to go when things get bad at home. Isaac doesn't want anyone else to feel as helpless, scared, and broken as he had felt.

Boyd came in occasionally, whenever Derek needs an extra hand, and same with Cora. Whenever Cora worked though, nothing got done, and everything becomes a mess. Derek tries not to put her on the schedule if he can avoid it.

And then there's Stiles. Every other weekend, he drove five hours down to Beacon Hills. His first stop would be _Hale Coffee_. Stiles hadn't told him that though. Lydia had, one night when she came in after a fight with Jackson and Aiden. Jackson had returned to Beacon Hills, with the full intention of wooing Lydia back. She decided she'd see them both, and Derek had been stunned that both boys agreed and hadn't shed any blood.

Lydia had said, “ _I wish that Jackson and Aiden were like Stiles. He always comes to see you first, before anyone else. He doesn't even go home first. I want to be someone's first choice. Sometimes I feel as though Jackson's still into me for the competition, and Aiden just wants to prove that he's the better guy._ ”

Of course, Derek's mind had only stuck on, _He always comes to see you first, before anyone else. He doesn't even go home first._ Derek hadn't let Stiles know that he knew that. He isn't sure if he's supposed to know it.

Maybe if Derek tries a little harder to make Stiles happy than the pack, that's his own business. After all, Stiles comes to see _him_ first, and Derek doesn't know what that means.

“I had fun.”

Derek's attention snaps back to Stiles.

“I did. Until you...I had fun, Derek. I was hammered out of my mind,” Stiles lifts his lips a little.

“Yeah, you were.”

“And I was dancing with a bunch of people. But _why_ did you beat the shit out of that guy for grabbing my ass? _We've been hooking up for months_.” Stiles shakes his head, as though if he hadn't been there, he wouldn't have believed it.

“I...” Derek realizes that he _should_ have been thinking about _how_ to explain last night to Stiles, instead of thinking about the fact that Stiles visits him first.

“Yeah?” Stiles prompts after a minute of silence.

“I don't know. You're pack, and I sensed that you didn't want his hand there. I overreacted.”

“ _No shit_ ,” Stiles says, without any source of anger. He lets out a small laugh. “You almost _killed_ him.”

“I did not,” Derek defends. “I just...may have hurt him a little worse than he should have been. He _did_ have to learn that he can't just go around touching you like that.”

Stiles cocks his head. “Touching _me_ , or touching people in general?”

“You,” Derek responds. “You're my pack, my responsibility--”

“ _Oh no I'm not fucking your responsibility._ ” Stiles pushes back the stool, and hops off. He shakes his head. “I wanted to know _why_ you were over-protective last night, but don't fucking give me that bullshit. I had thought that maybe you... _fuck you,_ Derek.”

“Thought what?” Derek asks. He stands up now, knowing that it's pointless. Stiles is backing up towards the front door.

“Nothing. Fuck. Of course, you'd protect me out of responsibility...because I'm pack. I'm sorry I fucking asked.” Just before Stiles leaves, he adds, “And Derek? You were wrong. I _did_ want his hands on my ass. I wanted them all over my ass, down my pants, on my cock. _He's a good lay_.”

Stiles unlocks the front door quicker than Derek can comprehend what just happened, and he's gone. The jingle of the bell on the door rings, as Derek falls back onto the stool. He looks down at the two coffees, both still fairly full, and frowns.

What _had_ just happened? Stiles had seemed determined when he walked in, but that had been mixed with worry. Then worry had started to overcome any sort of anger, and Derek couldn't figure out why. He sips his coffee, only to realize it's cold, and then he realizes he has no idea how long he's been sitting here.

He frowns, dumping the mugs out into the sink, and then he finishes closing up.

_Why had Stiles been worried when he'd gotten here?_

Why did Derek feel like he'd made his worry come true?

Oh god, oh god, how could he have beaten up that kid? He _knew_ Stiles was sleeping with him. So why did his hand on Stiles' ass make him see red? Derek groans, and covers his face with his hands. _Fuck_.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

 **SCOTT:** _derek, is stiles okay?_

 **DEREK:** _how would I know?_

 **SCOTT:** _you guys seem close lately  
_ **SCOTT:** _he didn't pick up the phone_

 **DEREK:** _maybe he's tired of hearing about kira_

 **SCOTT:** _oh no! do you think??_

 **DEREK:** _yes._

 **SCOTT:** _I thought maybe you guys had another fight.  
_ **SCOTT:** _um, are you two talking again?_

 **DEREK:** _no._

 **SCOTT:** _call him.  
_ **SCOTT:** _or at least text him, derek...pack night is coming up._

 **DEREK:** _is he coming home this weekend?_

 **SCOTT:** _dunno, that's why I was calling him  
_ **SCOTT:** _text him, derek._

 

Derek hates Scott. Or rather, Derek hates that he's probably right. He should probably give Stiles a call or a text. What would he say though? _Sorry I beat your fuck buddy up, but I really couldn't handle his touching you for reasons I'm not even sure of_.

He puts his phone away for now, and glances over at Erica. She's standing behind the counter, warrior expression plastered on as some guy is leaning over the counter, clearly hitting on her and making her uncomfortable. Derek gets up from his seat. Break is stupid anyway. It just gives him time to text stupid people like Scott who think that Stiles is going to forgive him for whatever crime he committed.

“Is he bothering you?” Derek grunts.

Erica rolls her eyes. “I can handle it, Derek.”

Derek looks at the guy, and recognizes his scent. He grabs the guy's shoulder, yanking him back to face him, and sees the black eye. _Oh this is going to be fun,_ he thinks, _even if Stiles hates me for it._

“I meant no harm!” the guy who had grabbed Stiles' ass a few weeks ago claims.

Derek squeezes his shoulder, in an unpleasant way, and then leans forward. His voice drops and he threatens, “If you _ever_ walk back into _my_ coffee shop, I _will_ hunt you down. Stay away from Stiles, and if you tell him _why_ you've suddenly _dropped all contact with him_ , I _will_ make you regret your entire life. _Do you understand_?”

“Uh—I didn't mean no harm!”

“ _Do you understand_?” Derek repeats.

The man nods weakly.

Derek adds, “I have connections _all_ over town, so don't ever think about doing it again. I _will_ find out. Now get out before I beat you up again.”

The man, built as he is, seems to scamper out as though he's a terrified doe. Derek sighs, and turns to Erica who seems to be looking at him with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Wow, Derek, do you think I can't handle myself?”

“No, I do. But that's the guy I beat up--”

“Yeah, because Stiles is fucking him.” She shakes her head, looking almost amused. “Derek, you know Stiles will never forgive you for killing his sex life, right?”

She then gives Derek a knowing smile. He has no idea what she thinks she knows, but she's wrong. Derek loves Erica. In fact, she's one of his best friends. He's not even sure how that had happened, but she had become one of his rocks, one of his sounding boards. Part of him thinks that even if he hadn't turned her, and they had met anyway, he would still admire her and respect her like “mad crazy” (Stiles' words).

“He's scum.”

“Yeah, I got that. Well, it's nice to know you were looking out for Stiles again. I'll let him know.”

“ _Do not tell Stiles_ ,” Derek hisses.

Erica laughs. “Oh honey, I am _so_ telling Stiles. I'm taking my break and you can't stop me.”

“I'll fire you.”

“Ha!” is the only response she gives. She disappears behind the door to the kitchen, and Derek resigns to standing behind the counter. He frowns when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He'd assumed Scott had known their conversation was over.

 

 **STILES:** _again, derek? really._

 **DEREK:** _he made erica uncomfortable._

 **STILES:** _oh, she left that out._

 **DEREK:** _he needs to know it's not okay_

 **STILES:** _yeah, of course...and erica's pack so--_

 **DEREK:** _so--?_

 **STILES:** _so of course you'd protect her_

 **DEREK:** _right  
_ **DEREK:** _and because she's my best friend_

 **STILES:** _so what? I'm just dirt to you??_

 **DEREK:** _one of my best friends._

 **STILES:** _too late buddy.  
_ **STILES:** _you made me into dirt_

 **DEREK:** _drama queen_

 **STILES:** _don't you know it_

 **DEREK:** _stiles...why did you walk out?_

 **STILES:** _isn't it obvious?  
_ **STILES:** _you made me feel like I wasn't special to you  
_ **STILES:** _asshole_

 **DEREK:** _oh_

 **STILES:** _yeah, oh._

 **DEREK:** _sorry._

 **STILES:** _whatever man, it's fine. I'll see you this weekend._

 

Derek frowns harder at his phone. When someone clears their throat, he looks up. Three customers in line, staring at him with annoyance. _Shit_. He drops his phone into the pocket of his apron, and tries to do what Erica had suggested multiple times. _Be nice, smile. People like that shit._

He's going to lose customers because Stiles Stilinski is going to be the death of him. Derek gives the three customers their drinks on the house, and lets out a breath of relief when the third one offers him a bright smile. Hey, maybe he'll get the hang of this eventually.

So. His mind circles back around. Stiles wanted to be special. What the _hell_ does that mean? He seeks out Erica when the rush hour is over, and debates at how to go about asking her.

“Boyd is so fucking sweet,” Erica purrs. She beams up at Derek, and then holds out her phone so he can read his message.

 

 **BOYD:** _I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight, you won't be able to move for weeks._

 

“Oh, Erica, get that away from me.” Derek rolls his eyes. She laughs brightly, before stabbing away at the keys on her phone to reply. Derek shifts on his feet. Erica snorts at whatever Boyd responds with. How Erica had turned Boyd into the kind of guy who says thinks like that, Derek will never know. Then again, Erica had softened since she'd discovered she was in love with Boyd. She doesn't seem as rough these days. Somehow, it works for both of them, and Derek's quite happy that they're happy. “Um.”

Erica's head snaps up. “Oh my god, you want to talk about something. _What is it?_ ”

She reminds him of his sisters on Christmas day. His parents would have to hire strangers to buy Christmas presents, hide them around town, because otherwise they would go on a hunt for their parents' scents and open their presents before Christmas morning. They always grinned like Erica is now when they opened a present.

“It's just...so Stiles texted me.”

“Okay,” she says, waiting for him to continue.

“Stiles said he was upset with me because I didn't make him feel special to me.” The words come out slightly muffled, and Derek catches Erica using her werewolf senses to pick them all up. She frowns.

“Not special to you? _Ha_ , that's the stupidest thing I ever heard. No one in the pack would question that Stiles is your favourite,” Erica tells Derek. She waves a hand in the air when he tries to speak. “Stiles is being stupid. You wouldn't have beaten that guy up if Stiles wasn't special to you.”

Derek finds himself searching for words, but none seem to come to him immediately. He watches as Erica types something in response to a text on her phone, before she looks back up at him. Then he says, “I don't have favourites. Stiles just requires more attention. He's human.”

“So is Allison?” Erica questions. “And Danny, for that matter.”

“Allison's a hunter, Danny has Ethan,” Derek counters.

Her shoulders drop, her eyebrows come together, and her lips are pressed tight together as she studies him. Then she shakes her head. “You can't actually believe that Stiles needs more protection because he's human.”

“He's _special_ , Erica.”

A customer comes in, and Derek leaves Erica to deal with her. He pulls out his phone, and sees a new text message from Stiles. God, his phone had never been this popular with _social_ texts before.

 

 **STILES:** _for pack night can we have a movie marathon?_

 **DEREK:** _whatever you want._

 **STILES:** _you know how to make a boy feel special_

 **DEREK:** _well you are  
_ **DEREK:** _you threaten a werewolf on multiple occasions_

 **STILES:** _said werewolf was being a sourwolf  
_ **STILES:** _on multiple occasions_

 **DEREK:** _maybe_

 **STILES:** _definitely_

 **DEREK:** _you're distracting me from work – go do school work or something._

 **STILES:** _I'm distracting? you do know how to make a boy feel special_

 **DEREK:** _see you this weekend, stiles._

 **STILES:** _see you sourwolf._

 

Just before the coffee shop closes, Derek stops Erica from leaving five minutes early. He hands her his phone, and she takes it with mild curiousity. Her expression changes as she reads the conversation between him and Stiles. When she's finished, she looks up at him. “Sourwolf is accurate.”

“ _That_ 's all you have to say?” he demands.

“Derek, I don't really know what's up with you two, but it sounds like you've been forgiven. And I don't know if you should read too much into the flirting--”

“ _Flirting_?” he wheezes, as though someone's hit him in the stomach with a baseball bat.

Erica's eyes sparkle with amusement, as though that's the exact reaction she was looking for. She grins. “Yes, Derek, _flirting_. Stiles flirts with a lot of people though. I guess since he wants to be special to you, maybe you're special to him.”

Derek officially hates Erica. He yanks his phone out of her grip, and then grunts for her to leave. She does, but with a look of excitement on her face. He finishes closing up.

When he gets home, and falls onto his bed, he rereads the conversation two more times. Then he replays the other weekend in his mind.

God, Stiles had looked so angry when he'd pulled Derek off that pervert. Then again, now that Derek thinks about it, he remembers Stiles looking almost...hopeful too. Derek wonders what _that_ means. Does it mean anything that Stiles had waited all day until Derek was closing up before coming to visit? Had he wanted to share a cup of coffee?

Whenever they drank coffee together, they didn't talk much. Sometimes Derek would ask about school, sometimes Stiles would ask about the shop or the pack. For the most part, they just sat in silence. It'd become normal, without Derek realizing it. Just as him touching Stiles' arm sometimes when they talked had become normal.

Maybe that night, Stiles had tried to sleep but couldn't until he knew the truth. Why _did_ Derek beat the shit out of that guy, when a small shove would have sufficed. Actually—why did Derek even go after the guy to begin with? He _knew_ that they were sleeping together.

The answer is immediate. _It's Stiles._

But Erica's right. What makes him special? Just because he's human doesn't mean that Derek should be as protective as he is. It's not like Stiles hasn't proved time and time again that he can handle himself. Derek shifts uncomfortably. Is it because...well, did Derek feel protective over that guy hitting on Stiles because... _no, impossible._

But...but... _god_ , the kid's lips. Usually they were moving a mile a minute. Except lately. What had changed lately?

Well, Stiles had gone to college.

And...

And Derek misses him. All the time. Even when they're together, because he knows that Stiles will leave soon. So maybe if he had been pissed that Stiles had come home to hook up with that asshole, instead of hanging out at the bar with Derek, well, that's for Derek to know and deal with.

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

“Oh my god, I'm forcing you to watch _Star Wars_. Derek said I was in charge of movie marathon night!” Stiles says, stabbing a finger into Scott's chest.

Scott looks over Stiles' shoulder at Derek, and gives him a look. Why is everyone giving Derek looks lately? He'd gotten one from Allison, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, his sister, _two_ from Lydia, and even one from Jackson and the twins. Hell, Danny is the only one who smiled at him without giving him a damn fucking look. Scott sighs. “I guess Derek owes you one.”

“Uh, _yeah_. He scared my fuck buddy away.” Stiles rolls his eyes, and gives Derek a teasing dirty look.

Derek shakes his head. “Did no such thing.”

“Derek, you _beat_ the shit out of him.” Stiles laughs. “I would've ran away from me too. It's fine though. He was mediocre.”

“I thought you said he was a good lay,” Derek mutters. The pack all look at him with different reactions—curiousity, confusion, disgust, surprise, amusement. He ignores them all, and goes into the kitchen. He had made dessert tonight, if only because he knows how much Stiles loves cheesecake. He starts to put pieces on individual plates when Stiles walks in.

“Hey, I thought we were okay. You said sorry, and I'm here,” Stiles says. He puts a hand on Derek's shoulder, forcing him to look at him. “You weren't...you weren't in the coffee shop when I stopped by this afternoon.”

“Why do you visit me first?” Derek blurts. He's not even sure where the question comes from.

Stiles doesn't seem fazed by the question. “Because I miss you the most.”

“What about seeing your dad?” Derek asks, his voice dropping. He's positive that the other wolves are listening in right now, relaying it to those who couldn't hear. Derek didn't reach out to see if he's right.

Stiles shrugs. “He's usually working, but I visit him second. He understands.”

“Understands, what?” Derek murmurs.

“That I miss you most, dummy.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “The year after high school, well, I thought we'd become kinda close.”

“We did,” Derek rushes to assure him.

“Then why is it a surprise?” Stiles asks. Derek doesn't know how to react, so he turns back to continue cutting the slices of cheesecake. Stiles lets out a small breath. “ _Dude_ , did you buy cheesecake just for me?”

“Made it,” Derek mutters.

“ _You made me cheesecake_?” Stiles asks, sounding completely caught off guard. Derek glances at him, to see his face bright with wonder. Stiles eyes bounce all over Derek's face, as though he's trying to figure him out. “I just...thank you.”

“You're special, Stiles.”

Leaving it at that, Derek picks up two plates to bring to the pack. He doesn't acknowledge Stiles as he comes in and out with cheesecake for the pack. He hands them out. When he's finished, he cuts a slice to hand to Stiles.

“So you made me cheesecake to prove that I'm special to you?” Stiles asks, hesitating.

“Isn't it your favourite?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you have your answer.”

“Derek?”

He turns to look at Stiles, halfway across the room to join the others for the movie marathon. Stiles suddenly looks ten years younger than he is, especially when his lip trembles. Derek wishes it's normal for them to hug, because he would right now. Hug Stiles, that is. By the end of the night, he hopes it becomes a very normal thing for them.

“I...uh, thanks.”

“Don't thank me yet.” Derek smiles lightly. “I'm going to miss the first movie.”

“ _Why_?” Stiles asks, expression suddenly back to his normal self.

“There's something I have to do.”

“ _Oh no you don't_ ,” Stiles hisses.

“Have to.”

He doesn't allow Stiles to argue anymore, and leaves the kitchen.

Derek quietly eats his piece of cheesecake, and ignores the dirty looks he gets from a confused Stiles. When he's finished, he slips out quietly. Derek had made a decision, with the help from Erica, and his sister. Cora had realized, somehow, that Derek had been feeling a little neglected (despite completely understanding why). She'd stormed into _Hale Coffee_ the other day and demanded to know what was going on in Derek's life. Erica had caught her up to speed pretty quickly, and then Derek had admitted he wanted to do something for Stiles.

The thing is, Derek realized a few things over the past half-week. He had discovered exactly why he'd beat that asshole up. Derek didn't want him to touch Stiles' ass, because _Derek_ wants to touch Stiles' ass.

And Stiles had been upset about not feeling special. So Erica and Cora had convinced him to make that grand gesture. The only reason that the gesture hadn't been completed is because Derek hadn't been able to track down the Sheriff in time.

He pulls into the Stilinski driveway, and knocks on the door.

“Hello son,” the Sheriff greets with a smile. “Melissa offered to help out too. She's already upstairs.”

“I—oh, that's great,” Derek says, smiling back. He feels nervous. “Again, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out yesterday.”

"Well, after the other night with having to convince that kid  _not_ to press charges, even though he had every reason to--"

"Again, I appreciate that. I have no idea how you did it."

"Well, I get the feeling it wasn't the first time that's happened to him," the Sheriff says. He shrugs. "Just don't do it again."

"Promise," Derek says, solemnly. "I'm grateful that you're giving me a chance to make things up to Stiles."

“I've seen the way my son looks at you, Derek. You might as well have hung the moon. C'mon, let's get this finished up. You know he'll be suspicious and ruin the surprise.” The Sheriff leads him up the stairs to Stiles' room. Melissa greets him with a smile and a hug. Derek tries not to seem surprised, but he is.

Over the past few years, he had to admit that he'd developed different relationships with both the Sheriff and Melissa. He couldn't help but respect them in the highest of esteems. They had helped him out, and the Sheriff had thanked him for saving Stiles' life repeatedly. Not that saving Stiles is heroic. Not the way that Stiles, the mighty human, has consistently saved Derek's life over the years.

Somehow, Derek had earned the trust of the Sheriff, Scott's mother, and even Allison's mother. Derek almost feels as though he has some parents to lean on for guidance, and whatnot.

“Thank you both so much for letting me do this—and helping,” Derek says, with a grin when they're finished. He's so proud of himself, that he almost misses the car door shut from outside. He turns to the Sheriff and Melissa. “Uh, Stiles is home.”

“We'll leave you be then,” Melissa says, hooking her arm in the Sheriff's and leading them out.

“Thanks.”

“Be good to my son,” the Sheriff says, smiling. “And be _safe_.”

Derek winces. Okay, so getting advice regarding _sex_ isn't exactly something he needed. But it doesn't matter. He slips out the window, and waits. He hadn't been able to tell if he wanted to be in the room or not, but he didn't want to distract Stiles from the surprise.

When the bedroom door opens, Derek peeks. Stiles stops in his tracks, and then rushes forward toward the walls. His hands are running along the bristle board that they had put up. He then rushes to the other wall, where they had painted chalkboard paint. Derek had written a note.

_You're special to me._

Stiles pulls up his window.

“Get in here, dumbass.”

Derek listens, crawling through the window. He's not surprised that Stiles had known he was waiting outside. He looks down at his feet, but then lifts his head. He's pretty proud of this surprise. It had been the first idea that had come to his mind when he'd been brainstorming with Erica and Cora.

He knows how much Stiles loves to play detective, and considering he's studying it in school now, Derek thought this is a great way to prove to him that he's not just part of the pack.

“You did this for me?” Stiles whispers.

“Yeah, your dad and Melissa helped.”

“It's so _cool_.” Stiles runs his hand over the chalkboard wall again. His fingertips outline the area around Derek's note, and then Stiles turns back to him. “Derek, I figured...I just had really thought that you beat up my fuck toy because you couldn't stand the sight of me with someone else.”

“I can't.”

“Oh.”

“I'd be lying if I said that I thought I was protecting you because you're pack.” Derek smiles, when he sees that Stiles' lips curve upwards. “I'd be lying if I said that....Stiles, _why_ do you come to see me first?”

“Because I miss you the most,” Stiles answers again. This time, though, he adds, “And because you're Derek Hale. You're a little intoxicating. I'm sure you know how I feel about you though.”

“I don't. You would think I do, but just because I hear your heart race when I'm around, just because I can sense that you're horny, just because...I didn't know it was for me.”

“You're a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah.”

“You told Scott I was feeling neglected.”

“Yeah.” Pause. “You told Cora I was feeling neglected.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because, Derek, that's what _pack_ does.” Stiles' eyes bounce with amusement when Derek's shoulders fall. Stiles walks over to him. “Because that's what _friends_ do. That's what two assholes like us do.”

“You care about me,” Derek murmurs. His hand, whether he realizes it or not, rests on Stiles' arm again.

“After everything we've been through, right from the beginning when you tossed Scott his inhaler and gave us your best look of doom, and you have to question that?” Stiles whispers.

“No,” Derek responds, stepping closer. God, he loves when Stiles is all up in his personal space, invading, inviting, being.

“And you, Derek? Do you care about me?” Stiles asks. Derek detects a little insecurity.

“I missed _Star Wars_ , I know.” Derek's eyes dance down to Stiles's lips. “But it's only because I care about you so much, that I wanted to surprise you. Cora wants to rebuild the Hale house, and I agreed as long as you could have your own room there.”

“I...will everyone get a room?” Stiles asks.

“Yeah, but yours...” Derek dips his head down. “Yours will be right beside mine, if you want.”

“I...yeah, I want,” Stiles breathes.

Then they're kissing. Derek wonders if it's always been building up to this moment, if they'd been dancing around it for years. Perhaps Derek had wondered here and there if Stiles had been interested in him, but it hadn't crossed his mind as an actual possibility. Now his lips are devouring Stiles' lips as though Derek will never be able to get enough.

When Stiles runs a hand down Derek's chest, to tug his shirt up, Derek decides that those are the longest three seconds to have ever happened because his lips aren't against Stiles'.

“Who knew you were such a sweetheart?” Stiles whispers against Derek's lips. “This is the best gift I've ever received.”

Derek doesn't care if Stiles is talking about his room or _him_. He just rips Stiles' shirt off and mutters, “I'll pay for that later.”

“ _Pay for it now_.”

 

♚♞♚♞♚♞

 

Derek rolls over, only to find himself facing a bright-eyed Stiles. He grunts, smiles, and reaches out to find Stiles' hand. They intertwine fingers, and Derek murmurs, “We need to talk about last night.”

“No, we don't. We need to reenact it.” Stiles leans over to give him a lazy kiss, that turns into a deeper one. He pulls back for a second. “Yeah, let's reenact that over and over and _over_ again.”

“I think that's something I can do.”

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” Stiles murmurs.

“I know. I'll visit.” Derek hesitates and adds, “That is, if you want me to.”

“Yeah, you can visit me. Because _you're special to me_.” Stiles presses his lips against Derek's hard. He quietly adds after the kiss, “Always have been. Apparently, I'm a sucker for sourwolves.”

“Good. So about last night,” Derek tells him. Before Stiles can voice a protest, Derek presses his lips to Stiles' collarbone. “I remember kissing here, and here, but...did I kiss down here?”

“No, yes, maybe, _fuck keep going_.” Stiles squirms with pleasure as Derek carries his kisses further down Stiles' chest.

“I think I paused here, to tell you that you're wonderful.” Kiss. Another one. Small lick.

“ _Uh huh,_ ” Stiles pants. “You know...you know what you did next, right?”

“Might have to remind me,” Derek whispers.

“You...you... _oh my god, Derek_.” Derek's lips had found something very hard. He runs his lips up and down for a minute, teasing, and then pauses.

Derek grins. “I told you we needed to talk about last night.”

 

 ♚♞♚♞♚♞

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not 100% this flowed well. I wanted more of a slow-build, and I'm not sure I quite captured that.
> 
> Also, for me, the formatting is a little weird around anything italicized. I hope it wasn't that way for you!


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